When Jo Robinson won my Doodle Contest, she didn’t just win a doodle, she also won a story, written by me, using the five words she provided. Her words are:
Below is the result of my storytelling efforts. Enjoy!
Andrea fought her way through the dense underbrush with little success, her machete now as dull as a dollar store steak knife. Nonetheless, she pressed onward, ignoring her exhaustion and the thorns that mercilessly slashed her clothes and pierced her skin. She was close now. She knew it. She didn’t know how she knew – her destination could not be found in the travel books or on any map – but she knew.
Or did she? A niggling little pang of doubt poked at her brain stem. Her husband’s words echoed in her head, in a whispered but never-ending loop.
“You want to go to where?” he had sputtered, aghast.
“Zimbabwe,” Andrea replied.
“Zimbabwe? Are you nuts?” He shook his head. “If you want to go someplace, why don’t you, me and the kids go to the Poconos? They got that go-kart place there.”
The Poconos was lovely this time of year, her brain conceded, but a spiritual journey was a bit more important than undersized cars with lawnmower engines.
Andrea had eaten all the food packed in her duffel except for some prune jelly. Why did I buy this? she wondered. Then she remembered the three-for-one sale at the ACME and amended her thoughts: Why did I buy three of these?
But food was food. She tipped back her head, let the wriggling chunks slide down her throat, and hoped that the jungle had a few clean restrooms.
A final dull whack of her machete sent Andrea sprawling into a clearing of swaying yellow grass. In the center of this place stood a tower of a man clad in black and still as stone.
She looked up into his eyes and could feel his stare burrow into her very soul, revealing everything about her: her thoughts and fears and desires – and that time when she was ten when she picked her nose and ate it.
“Are you…” she gasped.
The man tipped his head in assent.
“The Great and All-Knowing Weatherwax?”
Again the man nodded.
Andrea collapsed onto the ground in supplication. “I have been searching for you, sir. Searching for you for weeks. Traveling across oceans and deserts and through this jungle hoping and praying that we would meet. Hoping and praying that you could bestow upon me some kind of advice or wisdom. Could you tell me something? Anything? Something that will give me purpose and meaning? Something I can do to improve my life and the lives of those around me?”
He again nodded. “This I can do. Listen, my child.”
“I’m listening,” Andrea held her breath.
Weatherwax closed his eyes. He spread out his arms and gave himself over to the will of a higher power.
Then he spoke, his words a mournful, otherworldly whisper.
“Anybody but Trump,” he said.
66 Replies to “Here Ya Go. The Winning Story!”
Ha! I love this. It sounds like a crazy dream I once had only it included cannibals.
As far as I know Trump is not a cannibal. But I wouldn’t put it past him.
Real good 🙂
Glad you liked it, Suzanne!
Then my job is done here.
And done well!
The advice the all knowing Weatherwax gave our heroine should be followed, especially in this harrowing time.
Yes indeedy. It is sad that all cannot know what the all-knowing Weatherwax knows.
Reblogged this on Jo Robinson and commented:
THANK YOU to the amazingly talented Mike Allegra! I won the most beautiful artwork of my feathered horde, which he insists on calling a doodle. It’s stunning and looks just like my little angels. I will treasure it forever. I also won a story written with my four words – more fabulousness! You rock Mike – thank you so much!
You made my last couple of blogging weeks extra fun, Jo. So thank YOU!
I sent your doodle off last week, by the way, so it should arrive soon.
A great ending to an interesting story. Congrats! And that’s a fine ‘doodle’.
Thanks, Cynthia. And I did have quite a bit of fun with that doodle.
Bloom County and Mike Allegra. A good way to start the week.
Having my name uttered in the same breath as Bloom County is perhaps the highest compliment I could ever receive. Thank you, my friend!
You deserve it. I could totally see you hanging out with Opus.
Oh, I can see that, too!
Oh, gosh. The amazing wisdom of Weatherwax is kind of a no-brainer. Even in Zimbabwe. Loved the story, Mike. Ha ha ha.
Yeah, poor Andrea could’ve saved a lot of time and effort if she just went to my house instead of Zimbabwe.
The takeaway? Prune jelly seems to cause hallucinations.
I was thinking of you when I wrote the first draft of this story, Cathy. I sooooo wanted to make a nodding reference to Fluff Monkeys. But, alas, that rare species can only be found in Borneo.
Ha! Loved the ending. I was thinking he was going to tell her not to pick her nose, but the Trump one was soooo much better.
Yeah, sometimes a story needs a non-sequitur nose picking joke.
So glad you liked the story, Carrie!
BRILLIANT!!!!!! BRILLIANT!!!!!BRILLIANT!!!! You have outdone yourself, sir. And here’s a little parrot humor for you: http://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/18/science/parrots-the-highlight-reel.html
I had a feeling you’d like this story, Jilanne.
Despite the drawing I made, I am not a big fan of parrots; I prefer talking guinea pigs:
Rodents win! ROFL, I am speechless. Good thing I can still type. Excuse me. Gotta go find a tissue….but yah gotta admit that the parrot barking at the dog was inspired.
Oh, I am not begrudging the joys of a barking parrot by any means!
Now this was certainly worth the wait….all-knowing, indeed!! 😀
To be fair, you don’t need to know *all* to know what Weatherwax knows. You just need to know *something*.
Apparently 7/11 is the new 9/11. Wow….I am speechless. :O
I will never forget the day terrorists blew up that Slurpee machine.
HAHAHAHA! Great Story. Love the ending!
Thanks, Sassy. And that concludes the political commentary on this blog.
Only the Great Allegra could mix up that grab bag of words to such fine tuning and delight. Take a bow. The red one, right over there in the basket.
PRUNE jelly. Of course! I did wonder where you’d go with the word ‘weatherwax,’ though. Never knew you had a spiritual guru in your writing toolbox. (Me, of so little faith). You nailed it, oh blogging master. Thanks for an entertaining few minutes (which will keep me smiling the rest of the day….)
I’ll bet you eat prune jelly don’t you? You eat so healthy I can hardly stand it.
Or I could say your story was bow-wow, not saying, though, your story is going to the dogs. There were no dogs, right?
And would “bow-wow” be a compliment?
Heck yeah–it’s a wow! As in take a bow ( or did you prefer the red bow which rhymes with “show”?)
I think you might need to lie down for a while.
Must have been the talking Guinea pigs…they ate overwhelming.
I understand. Off to bed now. Scoot!
Ha ha ha…enjoyed your writing…and humor!
Many thanks, Mrs. P!
Ha! Well done. Good ol’ Weatherwax.
He is a wise fellow indeed.
Fun story! I liked how you threw in the Poconos! They are (relatively) close to where I live. 🙂
I hate to break this to you, Erik, but my mention of the Poconos is a bit of a running gag between my wife and I. Ellen and I have never — and I mean NEVER — had a pleasant Poconos vacation. I don’t know why this is exactly, but it is as true as the Pope being Catholic.
You got me! I loved your story! Didn’t see that coming!
I can’t tell you how much I love this story. You certainly have a knack for weaving a good tale. There will always be a story in your home.
My son pretty much demands a constant stream of stories. And I, of course, am happy to oblige.
Made me laugh. I waited for the punchline, sure the great man would wisely advise against buying prune jelly. I love the twist. Good advice for the ages; anyone of voting age.
Too bad there are so many people who do not share the wisdom of a Weatherwax.
Bravo Mike – also enjoyed the talking Guinea Pigs – I’m not wearing my glasses this evening so when I read your first respondents post, I thought it read,
‘Ha! I love this. It sounds like a crazy dream I once had only it included cannabis.’
I was sitting there thinking and nodding my head – yeah yeah – get that! Oh dear.
The Trump juggernaut often seems like a cannabis-fueled nightmare.
On a related note, how difficult is it to get a NZ work visa?
Mike, for a man of your talents and intellect – impossible! (just kidding)